As some of you may know, last year I began a research project called The Writers’ Editor, intended to explore how authors in different genres and fields create and develop their work; their writing and publishing challenges; and what they need (and want) from editors in a new and changing publishing landscape.

Part of this research took me to several conferences and conventions in the UK (more on that soon), where I listened and spoke to different writers and publishing professionals about their writing/creating/publishing lives.

Now I want to know what you think.

The goal of this project is to develop more effective ways for Bothersome Words to help and support authors, but this is best achieved through direct communication with writers.

To this end I have compiled a survey.
If you have the time, I’d love to learn what you know and how you feel about the editing and publishing process – and what sort of support you think might be helpful to you.

I’d love to hear from anyone who writes: novelists, poets, scriptwriters, comic book writers, game-writers, fanfic writers and anyone else who plays with words. You don’t have to be a published writer and the survey is anonymous.

Ultimately, I am looking for ways to help writers from an editorial perspective, advocating and supporting writers at different stages of their careers and going a bit further than just straightforward copyedits, manuscript assessments, proofreads etc.

Are there things writers want that editors don’t always provide, or only provide by accident? Is there some kind of care and development that’s missing now publishing is changing so much and publishers are offering less support? Would editor-led workshops be of interest to you? Mentorships? Editing worksheets? Forums? Something else entirely? In short, is there anything Bothersome Words – and freelance editors generally – can do to help you?

If you’ve ever read this blog, or accidentally engaged me in conversation, you’ll know I have Quite Strong Feelings about editing. And writing. And how editors and writers relate to each other and their procedures.

“Editing is tedious.”

I hear that a lot. From writers to me and/or to other writers. From other editors (less frequently). In terms of the writing process, editing is often regarded as administrative; the clean-up chore you know you have to complete in order to make your story “good enough”.

“Editing is about finding mistakes.”

That’s another line used regularly.

Too often these are views held by writers and reinforced by the editors they work with who are trying to pacify and reassure them: it’s OK to dislike this process, it’s hard; it’s not going to be pleasant, but…

I consider this an unfair and inaccurate view of editing. Both phrases put the task of editing, and thus the role itself, in a wholly negative light. And if you find editing monotonous, or perceive it as an unpleasant process, it’s possible neither writing nor editing are the right vocation for you.

Editing is key to the writing process, especially if you want to do it even semi-professionally – rather than writing for your eyes only[i].
It is part of redrafting and refining whatever you managed to get out on the page in your first flurry of inspiration.

If you take out the initial research and planning parts[ii], then unless you are one of those miracle writers who manages to type out exactly what they mean to say on the first pass and never go back, editing probably takes more time all up than putting the very first draft down on the page – whether you are self-editing or working with an editor. It includes all those rewrites and amendments you make as you go, as well as the changes you make to the final version.

So if you start out regarding it as an exhausting exercise in disparaging your hard work, you are really setting yourself up for a hard time.

And I’d say you’re doing it wrong.

And so are we, as editors, if that’s how you feel about the process.

What editing is…and isn’t

I spend a significant amount of my time as an editor reassuring writers that things I’ve marked on the manuscript are not a judgement against, or criticism of, or, in many cases, even a correction to their work. Of course, there are some changes that are marked for correction – spelling mistakes, grammatical errors etc. – but a large proportion of things I mark up are phrased as queries, suggestions, or flags for attention. I’m not marking a test. I’m not going to slash through someone’s work with a pen and send them to the back of the class for a “fail”[iii] – though I know some people (writers and editors) prefer that approach.

Editors can go deeper into a work than just rectifying surface issues. Given the chance, and assuming we connect with the work/author, we can get almost as close as the story’s creator – but with the benefit of objectivity. Editors can be as passionate about a work as the author, but since we didn’t actually put the words on the page, there are no threads tying our heart to the author’s darlings. Which doesn’t immediately lead us to “kill them all” but does mean we can see why something may need fine-tuning.

An editor’s job is not to jump in and tell a writer how to tell their story or what phrasing they have to use. Rather, our role is to attempt to slip into the writer’s skin[iv] and work out how they would approach a problem or phrase, and then either pose questions or provide suggestions that might spark the synapses. The key is to help and guide the author to make sure they’ve written the story they want or intend to tell. Not, unless we have been engaged by someone for this purpose, to encourage them to write the story we think they should be writing.

It’s genuinely troubling to see the role and purpose of the editor diminished to “making corrections” and “ripping things to shreds” when I know how hard my colleagues and I work to establish relationships of trust with authors; the time we spend getting to know each manuscript, and thus its author; and reassuring new writers that the editing process might be confronting but it doesn’t have to be painful and will be
worth it.

Knowing how much we all love stories and writing (whether or not we write ourselves) and the creativity that is involved in the task of editing, it is disgruntling to see others cut our work down to a chore that must be endured.

But much of this sense comes from the fact that many writers don’t know what editors are capable of, or what we can offer. Particularly freelance editors. I’ve been told very matter-of-factly by several writers that they don’t think an editor would be able to help with story, or developing writing skills. (We can and do.) And more than once I’ve had writers say to me that the information and/or support and guidance they are looking for just isn’t out there if you don’t have your own circle of writing friends, or an agent, or a publisher. (It is. If you know who to ask.)

Having said that, while there are things some writers may not know they need to know, or may not realise an editor can help with, I think there are also things writers want that editors don’t always provide – or only provide by accident. Especially now that the publishing industry is changing so much and in so many different ways. With self-publishing becoming more viable, a slew of new publishing services and models on the rise, and traditional publishers often unable to offer their authors the same guidance they may have done in the past, a lot of writers I talk to seem a little adrift – unsure where to find support and advice, or how to navigate the vast quantities of information available online.

With this in mind, I think freelance editors are uniquely equipped to adapt to the developing needs of publishers and writers. Which leads me to:

What would a writer’s perfect editor look like?

The usual (only half-joking) answer to this question is “someone who tells me my work is perfect as is!” or “someone who offers me a contract!”; but, as you very well know, that is not really what I am asking. And furthermore…I don’t think either of those responses are correct.

Of course you want to impress your editor, that’s only natural. But is it really their feedback you are most concerned about? Working with an editor, whether via a publisher or privately prior to self-publishing, is just one step at the start of the process. Do you want your editor to tell you your book is amazing and nothing needs changing…or do you want your readers to feel that way? Because the role of the editor is to help you make your book the best it can possibly be. To give your readers the same joy/pain/other emotion that you get from your own story.

The editor is already on your side. We not only want to help make your book shine, it’s the whole reason we do this job. And sure, there are budgetary concerns and time constraints whichever publishing path you choose, and not all editors can do all things… but, generally speaking, editors will do whatever we can to help you and your book.

So how can we offer the best help and support? What is it writers are missing out on?

Like most editors, I already do my best to discover and understand authors’ processes and language and interests so I can communicate and feedback in a way that is most useful to them – from a position of understanding things on the outside. But I’d like to take this further.

The project

This year, I am talking to writers about what they need and want from the editing process. While an editor doesn’t need to be a writer[v], knowing their techniques, strategies and angles helps us to speak to writers in their own language. A lot of writers assume that an editor will work from a solely editorial perspective and force novelists to work to that structure: “here are rules you must follow; plain language first and foremost.” But editors are generally more flexible than that – it’s down to what works and suits the manuscript best, rather than blindly obeying writing laws. Personally, I am more interested in getting inside the writers’ mindset and working from within, rather than tidying up wordage from the outside.

Putting myself in a writer’s shoes helps me not only to understand how to adapt my feedback and approach, but to weed out other writing advice and see what can be helpful or harmful. What works for one writer can be detrimental to another[vi], so every writer’s process is a helpful guide for how to work with authors.

As such, later this year I will attend a series of conferences and literature events in the UK, with the aim of learning more about how different authors create and develop their work; their writing and publishing challenges; and what they need (and want) from editors. I’ll be following[vii] agents and publishers, too, to see how they approach and respond to different needs and requirements.

I hope to talk to writers, publishers, artists, creators and producers in different fields – literature (particularly genre), film/TV, fanfic, comics etc – to find out more about how these works are created, what makes them good or bad, and how all this can translate to the editing process.

And when I get back, I’ll be looking for ways to adapt and develop Bothersome Words to better meet these needs and challenges.

This project has been assisted by the Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.

This is a research project that is being undertaken with the support of the Literature Section of the Australia Council for the Arts, to whom I am incredibly grateful. The Editorial Professional Development Grant supports opportunities for professional development and cultural leadership for Australian book and journal editors to enhance their literary editing skills. I am thrilled that in this case the Council is supporting a project that will largely focus on genre, allowing me to attend NineWorlds, LonCon3, FantasyCon and the Edinburgh International Book Festival in pursuit of knowledge.

Are you going to any of these events?
Drop me a line if you’d like to meet up!

Got some ideas about what editors can do to help writers?
I’d love to hear from you, too!

[v] Some say this can be a hindrance since it can lead to the temptation to rewrite rather than query or suggest. On the other hand an editor editing something they wrote themselves can get stuck on an endless edit loop. So… you say potato, I say edible tuber…

[vi] This post about “firing the muse” and just getting on with it instead of waiting for inspiration is perfectly just and sound. But some writers do work best with a sudden flood of inspiration or a “visit from the muse”; some writers cannot handle thoroughly planning in advance.

Last week, I explained that these posts were the consequence of a social media question time[i] I held a few weeks ago. I’m sticking to that explanation, and without further ado proffer the following as part 2…

FADE IN:

EXT. DIRT ROAD. TWILIGHT.

<HOWLING>

***

@laimelde asked: How do you get work/how does the process of agreeing to edit someone’s (manuscript) happen? ie: What info should someone have handy before they approach an editor?

1. Freelance editors get work by:

Word of mouth – fellow editors passing names on (either because we used to work in-house with them or because we have freelanced for them) or publishers/authors/clients passing our names around.

Most states/territories in Australia have aSociety of Editors. Members can often apply to advertise in the directory and there is usually a jobs board as well as networking events.

Networking – in person and online!

2. As to the process of hiring an editor…

The basics to have on-hand when you approach an editor are:

A manuscript or document that is ready for an editor. (ie: not one you are still rewriting. UNLESS you want an editor or mentor to work with you at that level[ii].)

The final word count.

A description of the manuscript/document.

A goal.

I also like it when clients are able to give me a history of the work: whether it’s a first draft or something they’ve been working on for years and that they’ve passed through crit partners and writing groups. (This also holds for, say, corporate documents that may be compiled from several sources – has anyone else had a go at editing it into shape or am I being given the raw data?).

This gives me an idea of what state the manuscript is likely in and how much experience the author/writer has with being edited. This can affect the advice I give and terminology I use when discussing the work with them.

It also means I get an idea if the author is trying to hire someone too early in the process. A lot of people try to hire an editor to work on their very first draft and I think this can be a mistake.

If the author is looking for a quote, I usually ask for a few sample pages so I can gauge for myself how much work is likely involved in the edit. It also means I can give them feedback on the service I think is most suitable to them. I need to know the full, final word count for the same reason.

A description of the manuscript can be as simple as a couple of words stating that it’s a sci-fi novel or a short story, or as detailed as a half-page synopsis. This lets me know what I am dealing with – proofreading a legal text requires different time and skills than copyediting a romance novel, and developmental or substantive edits are different again.

Defining the goal is also important and it’s an opportunity for the author/client to clarify their expectations of the process[iii].
Someone who is self-publishing will need slightly different services to someone who plans to submit to agents and publishers. Someone who wants to work slowly on developing their manuscript will need different advice to someone who already knows how the publishing process works and wants a straight copyedit without any fuss. This part of the conversation ensures that both the author/client and the editor are approaching the edit with the same expectations and understanding.

Desolie Page asked: What, for you, is the biggest challenge in completing an editing project?

I think the best answer I have is: being overwhelmed.

Sometimes the project feels insurmountable – maybe there is just so much work to be done on the manuscript that it’s hard to know where to start; or it is competing with other deadlines and it feels like you could never get it finished. Sometimes it can even be difficult to know when to stop…

In this case I am a chronic list-maker. I write out all the steps I need to complete for the edit, or all the tasks I need to complete and their deadlines, and then mark them off as I go.

NB: I found this question quite tough – not because there are no challenges to editing, but because there are so many different ones. So I made Desolie answer as well!

Here’s her response:

Well, apart from all the challenges of freelancing (marketing, workflow), I often forget to pace myself, especially when working on a tight deadline. I need to take mini-breaks to rehydrate, change my focus for a bit, otherwise I’m just head down and running on adrenaline, which is not good for my health.

Like you, I need a list to remind me of the ‘little’ things I need to check. And I’ve learnt to keep all the notes relating to a project in the same place, rather than just grabbing the nearest piece of paper that I manage to misplace. I think my biggest fear is that I’ll miss something that obvious.

That sounds like my challenge is being organised (better work on that one).

***

FADE OUT.

Thanks everyone who joined in and asked questions! I’m always happy to answer editor questions, if I can. Drop a line in the comments or ask me on Tumblr, Twitter or Facebook. (And if I can’t help there’s sure to be someone online who can!)

[iii] Sometimes writers will state explicitly that they are looking for “a proofread”. Asking what they want to achieve from the process – their ultimate goal, is a good way to find out if they are really expecting an edit that will analyse plot and structure. Alternatively, sometimes people ask about an edit when they’re not even sure whether they want to or should continue their work at all. Again, by getting them to explain this, an editor might conclude that the author really just wants some initial feedback.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to open the floor[i] to questions: writing worries, query quandaries, or questions about the deeply mysterious hooded figures world of editors and editing. The following are some of the questions that came through on Tumblr, Twitter and Facebook…

FADE IN:

EXT. MOUNTAINS. SUNRISE. MIST.

<BIRDSONG>

* * *

Q. What makes a book good to edit?

Assuming we’re talking fiction: the same thing that makes it good to read – a good story.

I work on different levels of edits and with writers at different career levels. It is an amazing experience to do developmental work with someone who is starting out – discovering the story and characters with them. But it’s also enjoyable to work with authors who already understand the writing/publishing process and who have handed in something that, on first glance, already looks publishable. (Because sometimes that’s a challenge[ii].)

Often it’s less about the book so much as the author. An author who is resistant to the very idea of editing is hard to work with. But then I consider it part of the editor’s job to explore why this might be the case so you can develop a productive working relationship. Ultimately you both want the book to be the best it can be, so you really ought to be able to work together rather than battling each other.

Q. (cont…) My attitude is to (attempt to) get my work to near publishable level, then work with an editor on substantive things…

That is exactly what I try to encourage people to do. Hiring an editor too early (if you choose to hire one

– critique partners and writing groups can work wonders too) can be very expensive.

I see writers who end up paying an editor to do the kind of clean-up the author could probably have done themselves (bad spelling, obvious grammar errors, awkward sentence construction) and thus miss out on the closer eye, subjectivity, and expert insight they actually signed up for[iii].

It’s like any other job you might hire a professional for: painting, cleaning, renovating. You’re paying for their time as well as their expertise, so the more “basics” you can clear before they start (shifting furniture, picking up odds and ends etc.) the more time they have to concentrate on the things you may not want, or be able, to do yourself.

This isn’t something that only applies to beginners or self-publishing authors, either. Even if you’re not hiring an editor, if you’re working directly with a publisher, that process applies.

An unedited first draft will take a publisher more time and resources (usually on a limited budget) than a manuscript that has already been fairly well developed and polished by the author. In fact, it could be the difference between the publisher accepting your manuscript to begin work and sending you off to rewrite it. (Even if you have already signed a contract.) However, some authors just hate self-editing, and there are experienced, traditionally published authors who will hand in their first draft for the publisher to sort out.[iv]

A lot of people starting out may just not realise how much reworking is involved. If they are not part of a writing community and/or they haven’t (for whatever reason) ever read anything much about the writing or publishing process, they may simply not know how to redraft or edit themselves. Especially if the only thing they have heard is that they “need” to hire an editor.

It helps to know the different edit levels and services that are available. And it’s also worth keeping in mind that some editors and organisations also offer mentoring, which can be useful if you’re not quite ready for an editor but want some professional guidance.

* * *

FADE OUT.

Thanks everyone who joined in and asked questions! I’m always happy to answer editor questions, if I can. Drop a line in the comments or ask me on Tumblr, Twitter or Facebook. (And if I can’t help there’s sure to be someone online who can!)

[ii] By which I mean it can be difficult to find anything that needs changing – which is excellent for the author but a source of stress for an editor!

It’s not that we believe no one is capable of writing anything properly in the first place, it’s just that we’re employed to find problems and if we can’t see any we assume a) we’ve missed something that will immediately be obvious to someone else, and b) that whoever has employed us (either the writer or a publisher) will assume we haven’t done anything if nothing is marked up. This means we will never be hired again and we will starve to death in a hovel somewhere. It’s not a judgement on the quality of an author’s work; if you think we’re tough on authors you should know we’re 10 times tougher on ourselves!

The flip side of this is being given something to edit by someone who is exceptionally talented/experienced/knowledgeable… in which case there is that competing stress that causes us to second guess any edit we might think about considering marking up…

A funny thing happened while I was blundering around the interwebs late last year. I was rummaging around on Twitter, minding my own business, when I stumbled into a conversation about tentacle fiction. That wasn’t the funny thing, obviously. Conversations about tentacles are a dime a dozen online, (if you, ah, know where to look) and they can be Serious Business – but the non-linear result was this announcement: I am now a freelance editor for Etopia Press!

As such, I am now taking direct manuscript submissions for speculative fiction (including fantasy, science fiction and horror) as well as romance/erotica.

Please check out my new submissions page for details on what I’m looking for, and visit Etopia Pressto find out more about what they publish.

***

In the meantime, in the spirit of dusting off the blog and getting it back up and running, and after a few conversations I’ve had online, I thought it might be time to analyse the fearsome obstacle of Publisher Submissions Guidelines.

Every week, there’s a new list of top tips on how to submit your manuscript successfully. Originally, this too was going to be one of those posts; but the thing is, ask any publisher or editor what they look for in a manuscript submission and they’ll nearly all say this:

The ideal submissions follow the publisher guidelines

No matter what else they might come up with in terms of story and writing quality, this will feature in their answer.
And yet some people still think guidelines are mere suggestions and can be ignored. Or alternatively, that they’re tricks and barriers deliberately put up by publishers to keep people out.

Neither of these things are true; or at least, not in the snarky and negative way that some people suggest. So, let’s break down what submission guidelines usually include and why the publisher might want you to adhere to them (and why it’s in your interests to do so, too).

Most publishers include the following within their submissions guidelines:

1. Description of the genres they do and don’t accept.

Not all publishers produce all things. If you’ve written a children’s book, you want to look for a children’s book publisher, or a publisher with a children’s imprint. What you do not want to do is send it to, say, a romance publisher who specifically states in their guidelines that they don’t publish children’s books*. And think about it, why would you want to? If they don’t publish your genre, then they don’t market to your audience; their editors probably don’t work regularly on those kinds of manuscripts.

Wouldn’t you rather work with a publisher as passionate and knowledgeable about your topic as you are? Who knows how to reach the people you’re talking to? Note: you might find someone at the first publisher does look at your misplaced manuscript, and maybe they’ll love your book. But that doesn’t change the fact they don’t publish that genre. So you’ll get a nice email from that editor telling you it’s a lovely book they can’t publish and wishing you well. That’s a best case scenario and where did it get you? Nowhere.

2.What to include in your submission (eg: cover letter, synopsis, manuscript/sample) – this will often include guidance on how long each element should be.

This is fairly obvious: the cover letter tells the editor/publisher who you are and a bit about your background, as well as what your manuscript is about; the synopsis summarises the entire manuscript down to a few pages, and the manuscript is… well… the manuscript.

The submission should include your contact information. It is extremely rare for a publisher to use this information to inform on you to ASIO/MI5/the CIA. As a general rule they like to use your contact information to contact you – maybe with a rejection, but hopefully with a contract offer.

Every element in your submission is important and has been requested for a reason. When you’re compiling your submission and thinking you could probably leave some bits out (or add in some extras) it’s worth thinking about how an editor might approach the actual reading of the contents of your submission. It’s possible they will read the parts in order, and how well each section is presented will help them decide whether to keep reading or cull your submission from the pile altogether.

If the cover letter is completely garbled, they may be hesitant about reading the synopsis. If they can’t make sense of that, they may not even look at the manuscript.

On the other hand, the synopsis might grab their attention within a page and convince them you’ve written a story they just have to read right now – something they wouldn’t have otherwise learned until they’d spent far longer reading the whole manuscript.

Other editors do it the other way around. They don’t want to know anything upfront and will dive into the manuscript first. But if they like that, then they want to know about the author… and it’s always nice to know whether the author’s view of the story as written in the synopsis is the same as the one in the full manuscript. Or maybe the editor will get halfway through the manuscript and waver on whether to keep going… the synopsis might ensure they do.

3.Where and when to send your submission

There are few publishers these days who hire staff for the sole purpose of reading through “the slush pile”. For the most part, reading submissions is a task editors and publishers do on top of their full-time work. Maybe it’s scheduled into their work week, but more likely they’re taking manuscripts home to read after work and on weekends. And they get hundreds of submissions each week.

It’s very easy for this to get out of control. And authors, understandably, do not like to be kept waiting for a response.

So publishers try to make this process simple and organised. They will provide details on precisely where you should send your submission. That means it will go to a monitored post box or email account and someone in charge of submissions will actually look after it. Of course, you can be wily and send it to someone specific if you think you’ll have a better shot. That might work. But you also run the risk in that case that your submission gets lost in that person’s overflowing inbox, or automatically deleted because you failed rule one of submissions: you didn’t follow the guidelines.

Some publishers are also specific about when you can send submissions. This might be on certain days, between set hours, or during certain times of the year. This is not the equivalent of the rock star’s rider.** Rather, this is a cunning administration technique to allow them to control the inflow of submissions. It means they know when to expect that week’s subs and they can monitor and distribute/read accordingly.

4. Formatting instructions

This is one people really think is a waste in the digital age – because who cares if you used the wrong font? Surely the in-house person can just “select all” and change to the preferred font or delete any unnecessary footers?

This is true.

They could.

Of course, they might have to do that on every one of hundreds of submissions.

One of the things an editor has to consider when reading a submission is how much editing a manuscript will require to make it ready for publishing – as in, ready to go on the shelves. Publishers have to think about the time and expense involved in working on any manuscript before they accept it. Part of that consideration includes gauging whether or not an author is likely to take guidance and edits happily. If you wilfully ignore the formatting guidelines on a publisher’s submission page, or worse, send in something you have pre-formatted for print (complete with cover, pictures and full layout) you may well lead the editor to assume you are someone who can’t take instruction and who is not willing to be edited.

There are also other reasons for specific formatting, depending on how the individual publisher’s submission filing system works. If you don’t supply the right information in the right way, you are relying on whoever does look after the submissions files to notice and either correct it or contact you for the right information. As mentioned, they’re probably dealing with several hundred submissions. What are the chances they have the time or inclination to do this?

The thing to keep in mind with all submission guidelines is they are there to make the process as clear, straightforward and fair as possible for everyone – on both sides of the equation. Next time you catch yourself thinking it doesn’t matter if you haven’t followed that particular guideline, ask yourself – what makes you so special?

Because, yes; your manuscript might well be The One. Maybe you are going to set the world on fire.***But… if your manuscript is in the submissions pile, no one has actually had a chance to read it yet to know that it’s so special. And if you don’t follow the guidelines, maybe they won’t ever get around to it. Because there are hundreds of other manuscripts in the same pile and all their writers think they’re special, too…

Publishers want great manuscripts. Help them find yours.

*And yes, this happens all the time. Also the other way around, I suspect. Blanket bombing the entire publishing industry with your manuscript is not a good approach.

NB: There is often confusion specific to children’s titles because some publishers accept YA (young adult) titles. Even allowing for the arguments over whether “young adult” means 12-18 or includes 20-25-year-olds; if your book is for toddlers or 7-9-year-olds, it’s not “young adult”. Failure to understand your own market is another red flag to the submissions reader…

**I’ve never met anyone in publishing who would allow anyone to remove free M&Ms from the room – not even for dubious colour-coding purposes.

***…And you’d better believe you’re going to set the world on fire, because you need conviction to survive this tough publishing business.